


Shattered Tranquillity

by TheOracle



Series: Stormy Skies [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fix-It of Sorts, Inquisitor Doesn't Take Any Shit, Oculara (Dragon Age), Other, Tevinters, Tranquil Mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:35:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27302761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOracle/pseuds/TheOracle
Summary: The Inquisitor finds that abandoned house in Redcliffe, and discovers exactly how the Ocularum dotted around Thedas are made. And she is not happy, to put it mildly.This is my attempt to address the fact that all the Tranquil have been needlessly slaughtered without anyone noticing - or without the option in-game to fix it. I don't know about you, but my Inquisitor wouldn't be having any of it.One-shot with my Inquisitor Gayle, as part of the Stormy Skies series.
Series: Stormy Skies [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/868359
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Shattered Tranquillity

“What is it Solas?” Gayle asked as she approached his side. “You’re looking at that door like it’s offended you.”

They were stood by the docks of Redcliffe, the air filled with the smell of smoked fish and the murmur of activity. There was something about this small house. Something that had Solas’s teeth on edge. Magic; but not anything he was familiar with. It was tainted with the echo of spirit energy, twisted and warped. It made the fine hairs on his hands tingle.

“You wanna have a look inside?” Gayle prompted, when he didn’t respond to her, directing a little frown of concern at the plain wooden hut.

“Yes,” Solas agreed. Gayle didn’t wait for an explanation; she just nodded and gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, before turning to call out behind her.

“Varric, we need you over here.”

“Just gimmie a minute,” the Dwarf yelled back in reply. Solas turned to see that Varric was still standing near the book stall, locked in an argument with the merchant there. He had been trying to negotiate the confiscation of all the Hard in Hightown II books, with the plan of having them burnt. He was getting about as far with it, as could be expected.

“Listen you son of a nug-humping…” Varric’s voice raised higher, his finger jabbing angrily into the chest of the other Dwarf. The store keeper didn’t appear remotely phased.

“Varric!” Gayle warned, cutting him off mid-sentence. With a few more angry words quietly directed towards the merchant, Varric walked over to them, his face set in a scowl.

“Can you believe that Coterie-loving, son of a bitch? He expects _me_ to buy all those terrible Hard in Hightown II books. Like I’m going to give a copper to the bastard that’s using my name, to peddle that crap he’s disguised as a ‘story’. I’m going to have to have a word with some of my contacts in the Merchants guild.” Varric broke off his rant, looking up to see that neither Solas or Gayle were listening. Solas had moved closer to the door. He could hear a faint sound from the house. It made his skin prickle. Gayle watched him, a hand hovering on the hilt of her dagger.

“Anyway, what in the Ancestors’ names are you two up to?”

“Solas thinks there’s something behind this door,” Gayle replied, glancing down with a frown. Solas wondered if she could sense it too.

“What kind of something?” Varric asked, though the cautious tone of his voice indicated that he had his own suspicions. “The good kind, like naked woman and fountains of beer? Or the other kind?”

“Take a guess,” Gayle responded, though the corner of her mouth tilted up a little in a smirk. The fact that they couldn’t walk more than a few paces without finding trouble, was starting to become a bit of a running joke now.

“Well shit,” Varric sighed. “And let me guess, you need a handsome idiot to help you get to whatever horror is behind this door.”

“Exactly,” Gayle agreed. “And we just happen to have the handsomest idiot in all of Thedas with us.”

“Fine,” Varric groaned, resigned to his fate. He fished out his roll of lockpicks from his jacket, as Solas stepped back from the door. “But - and this isn’t something I ever thought I’d say - shouldn’t we have the Seeker here, just in case?”

“I do not believe we are facing any kind of physical threat. The magic does not feel, in a word, active,” Solas explained, though he had his staff at the ready. Something magical was behind there. While it may be dormant, it was definitely sinister. Solas just wondered how long it had been here, sitting unnoticed, as he watched people mill about the docks.

“Oh well, that’s comforting,” Varric muttered, and knelt down, skilled hands manipulating the bronze lock. It only took a few moments before they heard the satisfying click of an opening latch. “There we go!”

The wooden door swung inwards, and immediately the group was hit with the stale smell of dank air and dirt. The sound, which had been barely audible through the door, now crawled and whispered in the air.

“What’s that sound?” Gayle asked, stepping back a little; a full body shiver raking down her body. “Yeuch, it’s making my skin crawl!”

Inside, the house appeared abandoned. There were a few sacks in one corner near the door. A table covered in a handful of coins, barrels and crates huddled around it. Solas ignited the braziers on the wall with a flick of his magic. Gayle walked ahead, turning past the wall, and then she choked on a gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. Solas stepped quickly to her side.

In front of them was a wall stacked with skulls. Wooden plinths, thick as tree trunks, were piled against the walls or lying about on crates. Lyrium runes glimmered from where they’d been imbedded in the wood.

“What in the name of the Maker…?” Gayle asked. The sharp echo of spirit energy itched at the back of Solas’s head. So many had been shattered, their fragmented remains trapped within the skulls. It turned his stomach.

“Uh…I think you might wanna read this,” Varric called out from behind them. Gayle turned and walked towards the Dwarf. He was hunched over a large, leather bound book, that was propped open on a table. Varric looked up at Gayle as she approached. His face looked a little pale. “Or not,” Varric said, “I kind of wish I hadn’t, actually.”

Varric moved out of the way and Gayle took his place, eyes scanning the yellowed pages. Solas joined her, and she took a half step to the side, allowing him space to read alongside her. His fears were quickly confirmed. Gayle stared at the page blankly, flicking through a few more pages before returning back. Solas couldn’t read her expression. He wondered if she perhaps couldn’t understand the process being described.

“So, each Ocularum is made from the skull of a Tranquil,” he stated, looking over to the back wall, it’s shelves heaving with the dead. There must have been thirty or so in this room alone; a large white crystal glinting from the right eye socket of each one. “I had wondered what had become of them, when the Mages rebelled. What a tragic waste,” he said, thinking about the numbers they’d passed just travelling through the Hinterlands alone. The deaths must number in the hundreds, maybe even thousands.

“Uh, Stormy…are you alright?” Varric sounded concerned, and when Solas saw Gayle’s face, he immediately understood why. Solas had, since travelling with her, seen Gayle gripped by a number of emotions.

Fear.

Sorrow.

Despair.

He had never seen this expression on her face. Her usually calm features were twisted in fury. She was grinding her teeth, her eyes hard and cold as flint, as she glared at the book page. A fine tremor ran through her hands, the green of her mark fizzled and crackled, tinting everything around it in a sickly light.

“Maybe we should go outside for some…” Varric was cut off by the sound of Gayle slamming the book shut. Her eyes snapped to the Dwarf, colour high in her cheeks, but she didn’t speak. Gayle blew past him, the journal clutched tightly in her grip, the pace of her feet so quick, it was more like a half run. She was out of the house before either Solas or Varric could react.

“Shit!” Varric said, throwing a worried glance at Solas, before he bolted out the door after her. Solas followed swiftly behind.

By the time they had caught up to Gayle, she had climbed the steps back up to the main town square of Redcliffe. The market bustled with people going stall to stall, merchants haggling and calling out to attract people to their wares. The townsfolk darted aside as Gayle ploughed through them. The expression on her face was murderous.

“Herald!” one of the Inquisition agents greeted. A few of the scouts were milling around the Griffin statue, erected in honour of the Hero of Ferelden.

“Where’s Cassandra?” Gayle snapped, and the scout glanced back to his companions, obviously flustered.

“Seeker Pentaghast was going to speak to one of the armourers, I believe,” he stuttered in reply.

“Herald, what has happened?” Cassandra emerged from a nearby store. She hurried towards them, her expression alert. Gayle marched towards her, and Cassandra abruptly stopped when the leather book was thrust into her hands. The Seeker blinked down at it, confused.

“This is what’s wrong!” Gayle said, jabbing her finger into the leather cover of the book, punctuating each word. “Where did all the Tranquil go when the Circles fell, Cassandra? Did you even bother to look for them? Did anyone?!”

Gayle’s voice rang out in the now silent square. Everyone had stopped to watch the scene. Cassandra glanced wordlessly between each of them, her face the picture of confusion.

“The Tranquil?” she asked. “I do not understand your meaning. What has happened?”

“The Oculara,” Solas explained, when Gayle had silently paced a few steps away, tugging hard at the tight braid of her hair. Cassandra stood clutching the book, looking down at its cover in bewilderment. “The magical skulls we discovered on our journey through the Hinterlands. They were made using a spell that required the sacrifice of a Tranquil Mage. We have found many such skulls hidden nearby, in a house next to the docks.”

“Sacrificed in a ritual?” Cassandra frowned. “By whom?”

“The Venatori, if what’s written in that book is true,” Varric replied. Solas watched as the Seekers features hardened.

“I had wondered where the Tranquil had gone, but in the chaos of the war… I should have looked harder,” Cassandra admitted.

“Yes, you should have. Everyone should have,” Gayle whispered, her voice still holding the sharp bite of her anger. Solas had noted that she’d stopped pacing. Gayle was very still, her face set in a look he knew well. Resolve. Determination. It was one he had seen many times before; had helped inspire and known himself, the face of someone who has seen too much injustice and has finally declared ‘Enough!’ The expression suited Gayle well, Solas mused.

“You’re going to send out a missive,” Gayle calmly instructed, addressing Cassandra directly. “You’re going to send it to Haven and have it forwarded out to every city, town, village and hovel from the Kocari Wilds to the shores of Rivain. The Tranquil are hereby under the protection of the Inquisition and its forces. Any Tranquil who wish to, are free to join the Inquisition at Haven, with no expectation of any service beyond what they’re willing to render. Any Tranquil approaching our agents are to be given aid without question.”

“While I can appreciate the sentiment Herald, I am not sure that we have the capacity to take on so many people,” Cassandra replied hesitantly. Gayle had never issued an order before, or made a demand, since she had agreed to help. Indeed, she had rather obviously shied away from any of the leadership decisions that were thrust upon her, preferring to defer to the knowledge of others. The change in the woman before them now, was a dramatic one.

“Then we’ll just have to make the room,” Gayle bluntly stated, the tone of her voice indicating that the discussion had ended. To punctuate this, she started walking away, her feet taking her in the direction of the tavern, while everyone else was still stood bemused in her wake. When Gayle showed no indication on waiting for them; Solas, Varric and Cassandra quickly followed behind.

“Listen Stormy,” Varric said, when his short legs had managed to catch up to Gayle’s determined strides. “I’ve heard enough inspiring speeches from Hawke, to know what the look on your face means. Whatever crazy shit you’re about to do, maybe we should, you know…just not do it?”

“We’re not going to do anything crazy,” Gayle replied, mildly. Her pace didn’t slow as they approached the inn. “We’re simply going to find every Tranquil in Redcliffe and recruit them to the Inquisition.”

“The Tranquil here are part of the Rebel Mages, and their alliance with the Tevinter Magisterium. I do not think Grand-Enchanter Fiona will allow…” Cassandra started to explain, but was cut off by Gayle as she whipped around to address them, her left hand gripping the tavern door so hard, her mark fizzled with energy.

“I think the Grand-Enchanter and I are due another talk,” Gayle replied mildly, but her eyes were sparked with a banked heat that made them glitter brightly. “And if she has any objections, after the bit of light reading I have for her, then she and the Magisterium can raise them with me directly. In fact, I’d like to see them try.”

Gayle swung the door open with a clatter and swept into the smoky room. All three companions stood outside, the implication of her words settling in.

“We’re about to fight every Mage and Tevinter Magister in Redcliffe, aren’t we?” Varric sighed, watching as the door slammed shut in front of them. Solas tightened his grip on his staff. The next few days were going to be…interesting.


End file.
